The League of Extraordinary Bowling Bats
by chibinightowl
Summary: "What did Dickiebird do? Steal all your other shirts?" The shirt is bright green with wide yellow stripes pretending to be a pin stripe running vertically across it. On the back, in bright red letters, "Timmy" is spelled out. "You're next," he spits out, shooting Jason the worst glare he could muster. "He's got one for you too."


" _Timmy,_ come on!" Dick whines, practically hanging off the front of Tim's desk. "It'll be the _best time ever_!"

Tim sighs, trying to put the finishing touches on a presentation he's been working on all morning. The board of directors meeting is in an hour and he still needs Tam to look over everything. "Look, I'm a little busy right now," he replies testily. "Come back in a few hours and you can _try_ to convince me this is a good idea. If you bring coffee and food, I may even listen."

"You always listen, you just don't always reply," Dick says, standing up. "I'll be back."

"If you're going to quote _Terminator_ , at least do the voice right!" Tim shouts as Dick walks out of his office.

Turning his focus back on his computer, Tim quickly finishes the presentation and sends it to Tam to proofread. He's pretty sure everything is there from the notes and lecture she gave him, but a couple of years of working closely with the woman have taught him to never assume anything.

Now that he has time to breathe, Tim thinks back on the odd request Dick made earlier.

 _Bowling night? What on earth makes him think that would be a good idea?_

* * *

As promised, Dick returns three hours later laden with a sandwich bag and a large coffee. Tim is still at his desk, sporting the beginning of a migraine if the pounding in his temples is any indication. He's also starving.

"Food and coffee. Now you have to pay attention to me."

Tim makes grabby hands at the proffered food. "I was paying attention before," he says, tearing into the sandwich like he hasn't eaten in a week. "What makes you think taking Damian bowling is a good idea?"

Taking a seat in front of the desk, Dick sprawls gracefully in the chair, looking for all the world like it was the most comfortable seat in the world. It wasn't, Tim made sure of that when he picked his furniture. The only comfortable chair in the office besides his own was Tam's and she kept it hidden in a closet off to the side where no one could find it.

"Bear with me," Dick says, getting ready for what Tim recognizes as his storyteller mode. The man pulls a bottle of water out of nowhere and places it on Tim's desk. "Drink that too. Alfred's orders."

 _Of course this is an Alfred sandwich, it's too good to be anything else._ Tim almost wishes he hadn't inhaled it quite so fast. "Whatever," he says as he takes the water. The coffee likely came from Alfred too. _Alfred coffee is made to be savored._

"So I was at the Manor the other day using the old Wii. Damian wanders into the game room and asks me what I'm doing. I told him Wii bowling and he makes the most ridiculous face. You know the one, where he's torn between wanting to try something, but thinking it's beneath him, and covers it all up with his little prince attitude?" Dick barely pauses for breath.

Tim nods. "He wears the same look when I play Mario Kart with Kon. Looks like he's pouting and tasted something sour at the same time."

"Yeah, that's the one! Anyways," Dick continues, "I eventually got him to play with me and at the end he said the Worst. Thing. Ever." The look on his face was comically horrified.

Tim sits back and waits.

Dick didn't disappoint. "Lil' D said he'd never bowled before. Ever. He knows the basic idea behind it, but he's never actually done it." He's so earnestly outraged Tim couldn't help but laugh.

"So this is why you think having a family bowling night is a good idea." Tim shakes his head ruefully. "I know the Manor has an alley. You'd have to check with Alfred to make sure it's all set to go. I don't see why I have to be dragged into this."

" _Timmy!_ " Dick cries out. "You're missing the point. Damian needs the _full experience_. We'll go to a real bowling alley, with the greasy pizza, awesome 80s music, smoky atmosphere, plastic seats, the works! It'll be great!"

Tim rolls his eyes. _Only Dick would think all 80s music is awesome_. "You know full well Damian would never step foot into one of those places on his own. He's too much of an elitist snob."

"You leave that to me." Dick grins enthusiastically. "I'll get him there, don't you worry."

"I'm not worried," Tim replies dryly. "Though I am curious as to how you'll be bowling in a full body cast."

Dick ignores him, knowing already that Tim will come just to see Damian be miserable. "It'll be great!" he says again. "I'm even having bowling shirts made for us! We'll be our own league!"

Tim face-palms as his headache gets worse.

* * *

Jason takes one look at Tim standing miserably in his new bowling shirt and laughs. Loudly. "What did Dickiebird do? Steal all your other shirts?"

The shirt is bright green with wide yellow stripes pretending to be a pin stripe running vertically across it. On the back, in bright red letters, "Timmy" is spelled out.

"You're next," he spits out, shooting Jason the worst glare he could muster. "He's got one for you too."

Being a former Robin, Jason is pretty much immune to all forms a glare could take and it rolls off him like water. "Baby bird, Dick couldn't get me into that thing if he _tried._ "

"Good evening, Master Jason," Alfred says from behind Jason, making the larger man jump a bit. "I have your shirt for you." He hands Jason a neatly pressed and folded shirt, identical to Tim's but with "Jay" emblazoned across the back. Alfred was sporting his own bowling shirt, though his was black with white stripes.

Tim smirks, taking perverse pleasure in watching Jason try and weasel his way out of putting on the shirt without upsetting the old man.

"We're all wearing them. Suck it up." He walks past Jason and Alfred to search for a ball. It's been a while since he's bowled and he can't quite remember the weight he used before.

Stephanie quickly joins him, sporting a black and white shirt with "Steph" embroidered in purple on the back. "I can't believe Dick got everyone to do this." She grabs a purple ball and hefts it, testing the weight.

"I know. I think he had help though."

"No kidding," she laughs. "I think he convinced Alfred, then the two of them ganged up on Bruce."

"Very likely," Tim agrees, finding a shiny green ball that fit his hand perfectly.

Keeping a hold of the purple ball, Stephanie and Tim turn to see Cassandra standing behind them. She's wearing a black and white striped shirt. _I'm sensing a pattern here and I don't like it._

"I need a ball," Cass says quietly. She's eyeing the long row of bowling balls, a curious look on her face. Tim realizes this is _her_ first time bowling too.

"I'll help!" Steph says, reaching out to grab Cass's hand. "Tim, go make sure the demon brat hasn't killed anyone yet."

"I think it'd be okay if it were Dick. Then we could go home and forget this farce ever happened." As Tim walks away, he feels a light smack on the back of his head.

"Be nice," Cass admonishes him. "I want to do this. It's…normal."

Tim grins. "I know. We could all do with something normal. I'm more scared for the staff here. I think we may have to pay for therapy sessions by the time we leave."

"At least it'll be just the staff," Steph replies with a smirk. "Bruce did rent out all the lanes and closed this place to the public for the night."

"Of course he did." Shaking his head, Tim walks away.

* * *

Tim's suspicions are proven correct when he sees Dick and Damian seated at the two lanes the family are playing on. Both are wearing the green and yellow shirts. Bruce is there as well, sporting a black and white shirt. Damian looks livid, sitting with his arms crossed tightly against his chest and glaring for all he's worth.

The sight makes Tim feel _slightly_ better.

"The shirts indicate our team," Tim says flatly, glaring at his oldest brother as he sets his ball down. There's a bright blue ball, a purplely red ball, and a matte black ball already waiting. _Doesn't take a genius to figure out whose is whose. I wonder how long it'll be before Jason makes a blue-ball joke._

"Yup!" Dick crows excitedly. "I thought it'd be great for the four of us played as a team since we've all been…you know." Robin. He'd been about to say Robin. "And since Cass has never played either, I thought it'd be fair if each team has newbie to balance things out."

"Sit down and relax, Tim. This is supposed to be fun." Bruce is at the console, entering in the teams and their names.

Sitting down in the hard plastic seats adjacent to his brothers, Tim glances up at the overhead screen. He nearly chokes. Instead of spelling out their names like Tim thought Bruce would do, the man has entered all of his son's nicknames instead.

 _Big Bird. Little Wing. Baby Bird. Lil' D._

 _I wish he could have put baby bat in there for Damian, but that's too much of a giveaway._ Damian despises all of his nicknames, but has a special passion for anyone who calls him baby bat these days. At 13, Damian's temper has grown, almost as much as he himself has.

So of course Jason has to call him that whenever possible to see the fireworks show. One time there were actual fireworks involved too. Gotham Harbor had never looked so good.

"And just what exactly are you putting in for your team, Bruce?"

"Does it matter?" he replies enigmatically, lips quirking in what Tim knew was a grin by the Bat's standards.

"Yes. Alfred makes your food." Tim sits back and relaxes like he was told.

Steph and Cass join them, placing the purple ball and a very bright pink ball next to the others. "Where're Alfred and Jason? We can't start without them." Steph cranes her neck, looking around behind them.

"I saw Alfred drag Jason into the men's room. They should be out any second." Dick hops up, full of excited energy. "When they get here, I want a picture of everyone together. You bring your selfie-stick, Steph?"

"Yup!" Steph leans over and grabs the large bag she calls a purse, pulling out the stick. "Right here."

Tim's watching the overhead screen, smiling at the names Bruce is entering.

 _Alfie. B. Blondie._ He's entering _Cass_ when Cassandra walks over to Bruce and whispers in his ear. He nods and she grins. Bruce backspaces over _Cass_ and starts entering something else.

 _Batman_.

Dick chortles with laughter when he sees it and Damian scowls even harder. Steph is grinning and gives Cass a quick hug. Tim pulls out his phone and takes a picture of the full screen.

 _So much for subtle. I might just print this one._

Alfred and Jason approach, Jason scowling and wearing his new shirt. He sits on the other side of Tim and glares at Dick. Tim snaps another picture, making sure to get Damian in the frame.

 _They match!_

"All right! We're all here! I want a picture!" Dick bounces around, trying to grab hold of everyone and draw them closer together.

Tim goes along with it and somehow Stephanie ends up on his lap with Cass on Jason's. Dick is standing behind them and has shoved Damian into the open seat next to Tim. Alfred and Bruce are also crowded in and standing behind the chairs.

Steph is fiddling with her selfie-stick and grabs Tim's phone. "Cuz you're going to be the one taking all the pictures anyways," she says in response to Tim's questioning look. She holds the stick out, arm extended as far as it'll go.

"Say cheese!"

* * *

By general consensus, the first set is a practice round for Cass and Damian to learn how to play. For the rest of them, it's time to scope out the competition.

Tim considers himself a pretty fair bowler, and it quickly becomes apparent Jason is too. The man's red ball flies down the lane, striking pins with alarming accuracy and power. Dick starts with a few gutter balls, but quickly picks up steam as he catches his rhythm. Soon, his ball flies down the lane like Jason's.

Bruce's bowling style could only be described as _analytical_. The man carefully lines himself up, and then _moves_ in perfect form. Depending on what pins he misses the first time (a rarity, Tim notices), he'll adjust and add a spin onto the ball to get it to curve accordingly.

Alfred is amazing. It's common knowledge in the family that Alfred can do everything and he proves them correct yet again. Where Bruce is all thought, Alfred is all precision. The ball may lack the power behind it that Bruce, Dick, and Jason all have, but he knocks down just as many pins as his boys.

The real shocker to almost everyone is Stephanie. The bubbly blonde is enthusiastic and cheers for all of them, but she gets more strikes and spares than anyone expects. Tim is the only one not surprised. He remembers her telling him long ago that as a child, she used to bowl regularly with her parents. Before things went south and her dad became Cluemaster and her mom started popping pills to deal.

Damian and Cass receive all kinds of advice and tips on how to bowl, some good, most bad. Cass watches everyone on her team closely, studying their movements, and tries to mimic what she sees. It only took a few turns and several gutter balls for her to finally figure it out. Her bright pink ball speeds down the lane like a streak of pink lightning.

Damian has a rougher time of it. He watches all of them, also trying to copy their movements and forms, but can't quite seem to get the ball to stop veering off into the gutter just before the pins.

"Do we need to put the bumpers up for you, baby bat?" Jason taunts. He's sitting at the table behind them, cigarette in one hand and a beer at his elbow. After the first turns were over, he'd marched over to the bar and ordered a large pitcher of beer and another of Coke. He dragged Tim along to carry the cups.

"I am not a _child_ , Todd. I do not need the bumpers," Damian growls in response.

"You sure about that? I can check and see if they have the blow-up kind instead of the rails."

Tim steps in before things can escalate. "Ignore him, Damian. I think I see what you're doing wrong."

"I do not need help from you, Drake," Damian practically hisses at Tim.

"Fine," Tim replies, shrugging his shoulders. "I won't tell you then to stop twisting your wrist when you let the ball go." He goes and sits across from Jason, pouring himself a soda.

"Nice job," Jason says quietly as they both watch Damian _finally_ hit some pins and both Dick and Stephanie cheer wildly. "I thought he was going to flunk out of bowling school."

Tim chuckles. "It's nice to see there's something he's bad at."

"Amen to that." They _clink_ glasses in a mock toast and drink.

* * *

Practice round over, it's finally time for the competition to start. Cass has rolled a few strikes already and Damian finishes the last few rounds of the set with spares. Trash talking starts flying, particularly between Jason and Steph.

"You're going down, blondie."

"You wish, Jay. All it'll take to make you lose is a good distraction. Guys are easy like that."

"If you think flashing your tits is going to distract me, then you have another think coming."

"Who says I need to show some skin?"

"Let's keep this clean and with no shenanigans. We do have an audience after all," Bruce chimes in, gesturing behind them all to the few staff members at the bowling alley.

A chorus of groans met the reminder. "Come on, B. We gotta make this interesting somehow," Jason grouses.

"I have a suggestion," says Alfred. He's sitting in one of the plastic bowling chairs like it's his favorite armchair at the Manor. "How about a miniature competition between members of the opposing team? Each person has a partner within their team and they have to beat the corresponding team in the other group.

"Oh, I see!" Dick sounds excited. "So if Lil' D and I pair up, that means we'll take on Cass and Steph. That'll keep the experience levels fair."

Tim glances over at Jason. The man is wearing one of the most pleased and _vicious_ little smiles Tim's ever seen on his face. _I should know, I've photographed and been on the receiving end of some of those looks._ It comes to no surprise Jason likes the idea of taking Bruce on head to head.

Alfred looks between Jason and Bruce, a mild expression on his face. He seems to be having the same thoughts as Tim. Bruce looks the same, but there's a glint in his eyes that wasn't there before.

"Play nice boys," Alfred admonishes.

* * *

Jason takes Tim aside while Dick and Damian start their turns against Cass and Stephanie. Bruce had rearranged the team member names to accommodate Alfred's idea. " _We_ _have_ _to win_ ," he says in a harsh whisper. "Alfie and B may be a fucking power team, but _we have to win_."

Tim nods in agreement. "The bragging rights alone would be amazing. That we beat Bruce at _something_ for once."

"I know!" Jason shoots a glare over at Bruce who's clapping loudly at the frame Damian just finished. Cass was up next on his team. "So don't fuck this up, Replacement. I know where you sleep."

"You're assuming I ever sleep in my bed," Tim says dryly. The threat only mildly concerns him. _Please God, don't let me throw a gutter ball tonight. Then I might have to actually be concerned about waking up to a knife at my throat._

"We all know you sleep on whatever surface is available. I've seen Blondie's pictures of you with computer keys indented into your face." Jason smirks and takes a final drag of his cigarette. _He had to have made a bargain with Alfred tonight as he hasn't said a word about them._

"That was _one time_ ," Tim growls. " _One time!_ "

"Whatever, it's your turn. Get down there and make me proud." Jason all but shoves Tim down the few steps to the lane floor.

Tim shoots Jason a glare and goes to pick up his ball. Looking up, he sees Alfred smiling benignly across from him. "Shall we, Master Tim?" he asks.

A chill suddenly goes through Tim. _Dammit Jason, it's not Bruce you need to be nervous about, it's Alfred. I feel like I'm about to have my ass handed to me._ Not being able to do anything else, Tim nods. "Let's do this."

* * *

The game is almost over. Tim eyes the scoreboard and swallows a bit nervously. His and Jason's scores are identical, both having missed a couple of pins on different turns, but otherwise throwing strikes and spares throughout the game. Alfred and Bruce have similar scores, but were just a few points ahead. _Even if we both get strikes at the end and get the extra turns, we'll still lose if one or both of them doesn't mess up._ He lets out a sigh. _At least Jay and I have the same score. He can't be pissed at me over that._

He glances over at Jason, who's up at the table smoking another cigarette and glaring at Bruce. _Good thing he doesn't have heat vision._

Bruce pretends not to notice and smiles at Tim. He'd just thrown another strike. "You're up, tiger."

The last frame. Tim takes a deep breath and picks up his ball. He needs a strike in this last frame to get the two extra frames. He lets out the breath and steps up to the lane. Closing his eyes, Tim does what he always has in times of extreme stress. He pushes aside all his fears and nerves and embraces the rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins. Taking another deep breath, he opens his eyes and _focuses_ in the way that only Red Robin can.

He takes a few quick steps in his bowling shoes and lets the ball go with a smooth glide and _speed_ that could match Jason or Bruce's turns.

The ball flies down the lane and slams into the pins, knocking them all down. Behind him, Tim hears Jason let loose with a loud _whoop_ and Dick and Stephanie are cheering loudly.

As he steps back down to await the return of his ball, Alfred smiles approvingly as he picks up his ball for his turn. "Well done, Master Tim. Let's see if these old bones can do half as well."

"You've been kicking butt and taking names all night, Alfie." Tim grins. "Even if we can't beat you, please, at least beat Bruce."

Alfred gives Tim a small smile, which is practically a grin by his standards. "I shall certainly endeavor to do so."

The old butler is true to his word as his ball flies down the lane in another strike, earning another two frames in the process.

 _Bowling has some of the oddest scoring for strikes and spares, but right now, I'll take any extra points I can get._ Tim squares his shoulders, again picking up his ball, and stepping up to the lane. Channeling his inner Red Robin again, he smoothly and deftly bowls another strike.

"One more, Timmers! One more!" Jason shouts.

"Come on, Tim!" Steph cheers. "You can do it! Beat them!" She and Cass had lost to Dick and Damian, but not by much.

"You're cheering for the wrong team, Brown," Damian said archly. He's sitting next to Dick sipping from a cup of soda. "What does that say about your loyalty to the shirt you're wearing?"

"I always root for the underdog," she replies brightly.

Cass simply smiles and gives Tim a thumbs up. He's pretty sure she can see exactly what he's doing each time he picks up the ball.

Alfred picks up his ball with another small smile. But unlike his first strike, this ball curves slightly at the end of the lane and only knocks down seven of the 10 pins. Tim feels his jaw drop. _Even if he knocks down those other three pins on the next turn, that's only 10 points instead of the 20 if he'd gotten two strikes. Holy cow, I may just beat Alfie if I get a strike here at the end._

Jason apparently came to the same conclusion. "Drake, you're in the clear if you can at least beat Alfie!" he shouts.

Shaking his head, Tim picks up his ball and makes that last step up. He again squares his shoulders and puts his game face on. A few quick steps forward and he lets go.

A third strike.

 _I beat Alfred. Oh my God, I just beat Alfred._ Tim grins broadly as he turns back to his family. He sees the flash of a camera and knows Steph had just captured his proud moment. _Bet I'll be seeing that soon._

Alfred pats Tim on the shoulder as he steps down. "Good show, Master Tim. Very well done."

"Thanks, Alfie!" Tim can't stop grinning just yet.

"Good job, Tim." Bruce claps Tim on the shoulder as well. "But Jason and I still have our turns."

"Way to spoil the moment, Bruce." Dicks slaps Bruce on the back and hugs Tim. "Good job, baby bird!"

"Thanks, Dick." Tim catches Jason's eye and walks around the other men to approach his brother. Jason stubs out his cigarette and steps down to the lanes. Tim grins as he says "Don't fuck this up, Jay. I'll _find_ where you're sleeping. You know I can."

Jason ruffles Tim's hair as he walks past him. "I don't doubt it, Replacement."

* * *

Cass sits next to Tim as Jason and Bruce square off. Alfred finished his set with a spare and was sitting on the other side of the diminutive, but dangerous woman. "I saw what you did there at the end," she says quietly. "Why didn't you do that in your other turns?"

Tim shrugs as Jason trash talks Bruce in front of them, trying to get a rise out of the man. "I don't know. I guess I just wanted to enjoy the game. I know Jason really really wants to win, but I'm in it more for the fun."

"Until the end, then your competitive side came out."

"Yeah," Tim grins sheepishly.

Cass pats Tim on the knee. "It's okay. We're all competitive. Next time, Stephanie and I will beat you."

Tim grins at his sister. "Like hell Jason would let that happen. He and Steph would sooner beat the crap out of each other than lose to the other."

In front of them, Jason steps up with his red ball and lets loose. A strike. He turns and gives Tim a victorious grin that quickly turns into a glare as his gaze shifts to Bruce. The others cheer loudly.

Cass grins. "Then we will need to be there to supervise and break up any fights."

"Fine, but I'm not wearing this shirt ever again after tonight. I'm tossing it in a barrel with some gasoline later and lighting it on fire."

"This shirt itches but I would not burn it," she replies. "I would like to remember my first time bowling."

Bruce picks up his ball. In the fluorescent lighting of the bowling alley, he still looks tall and imposing, even dressed as he is in a black and white striped bowling shirt and faded jeans Tim's only seen him wear while working on the Batmobile. _You can just see him blocking out everything, focusing only on what's in front of him. I wonder what the employees here think of this side of Bruce Wayne? He's hardly been in Brucie form at all tonight. Just Bruce._

The black ball goes flying down the lane faster than Tim thought it could go, thrown with all the power and precision the Batman could muster. The pins scatter, flying wildly at the strike. One of them even flies off to the side into another lane. He turns and gives Jason a small smirk. The gauntlet had been thrown.

Tim lets out a low whistle. "Wow."

Jason glares and his fingers twitch before clenching into a fist. Sensing what's coming, Tim jumps up and grabs Jason's arm, standing on his toes slightly to reach the other man's ear. "Don't," he says quietly. "He's showing off. The last time you responded to it, you missed three pins. You've got this, Jay. Don't let him get to you. He wants to win too."

Tim feels the tenseness leave Jason as he takes a harsh breath in through his mouth and lets it out through his nose, flaring his nostrils a bit as he does it again, this time more slowly. "You're right, Replacement. You're so fucking right. I got this."

Sitting back down, Tim watches Jason hold his hands over the air vent where the balls were waiting, drying the sweat on his hands. Cass leans in. "Good job. It worked."

"You sure?"

"Yes. Jason is focused."

Together, they watched Jason score another strike using the same technique he had before.

"What else you got, old man?" he taunts Bruce as he steps down.

Bruce doesn't say anything, but picks up his ball. Another strike, this time more controlled than the wild power of the previous one.

Jason goes through another series of deep breaths before taking his last turn. He needs a strike to secure the win Tim had set them up for. If he misses two pins, Bruce and Alfred would win, assuming Bruce scored a final strike.

Lining himself up, Jason takes those last few steps and lets the ball fly.

Tim holds his breath, sitting on the edge of his seat. _Come on. Come on. Come on_ he chants, out loud or in his head, he's not sure.

The ball slams solidly into the pins, knocking most them over. The last pin wobbles a bit before falling on its side.

Tim jumps up from his seat with a roar. "We win!" he shouts and rushes to Jason, who's still standing at the edge of the lane facing away from everyone. Clapping Jason on the shoulders, the other man finally reacts and turns to face Tim.

He's got a stunned look on his face that's quickly turning into a grin. Grabbing Tim, Jason swings him around in a victory hug. "I did it!" he says as he lets Tim go.

The shorter man wobbles a bit before his finds his footing on the slick floor. "Oh my God, we beat Alfred _and Bruce!_ "

Dick runs up and joins them, wrapping Jason in a tight hug. "Team Robin wins!" he says excitedly. Letting go, he worms his way between his brothers and drapes his arms across their shoulders. "Get up here, Dami! We need our victory picture!"

Damian grumbles, but quickly comes to stand in front of Dick. "Hurry it up, Brown," he orders.

"Yeah, yeah, hold your horses." Stephanie fumbles with Tim's phone for a moment, then holds it up. "You better smile, Damian or you've got three brothers there who'll kick your ass."

Tim could just see Damian smirk. "They can try."

 _Close enough._

Out of the corner of his eye, Tim sees Bruce take his last turn. Even without turning around to watch the ball, he knows the man got a strike.

Game over, Bruce smiles at his boys. "Good game. Best two out of three?"

Jason grins, bright and bloodthirsty. "You're on."


End file.
